Blood on the Line

by Edward Marston

‘And there’s something else to bear in mind, Inspector. Didn’t you tell me that he’s tried to shoot you before? When he sees you right in front of him, he won’t be able to resist the temptation.’

  ‘He won’t recognise me,’ explained Colbeck. ‘It was because of mistaken identity that Constable Peebles was shot in my place. And he’s never set eyes on the sergeant either. He’ll assume that we are what we look like – two New York policemen.’ When he saw Leeming desperately trying to adjust his uniform, he laughed. ‘It’s only for one morning, Victor,’ he said. ‘Once he’s in custody, you can change back into your own clothing.’

  Oxley arrived at the courthouse early so that he could rehearse the escape. The police would bring Irene through the side door, then go through an anteroom and into a corridor that led to the courtroom. By going down the corridor in the opposite direction, it was possible to reach the rear exit. Oxley made the short journey a few times to see how long it would take them. Once in the street, they could run to a waiting cab and be driven away at speed. It was now only a question of waiting. The newspaper had talked of proceedings beginning at a specific time. Fifteen minutes beforehand, Oxley was hiding in the lavatory, watching the yard through the window he’d left slightly ajar.

  He heard the clatter of hooves and the rumble of wheels. The black police van with its barred windows rolled into the yard. It came to a halt and the driver got down in order to unlock the door at the rear. A second policeman emerged with Irene handcuffed to his wrist. He helped her down the step. Oxley was upset to see how pale and haggard she was. He watched all three of them move to the side door. Leaving his hiding place, Oxley rushed to the anteroom and stood behind the door with his gun in his hand. As soon as the newcomers entered, he slammed the door shut behind them and thrust the barrel against Leeming’s temple.

  ‘Release her at once!’ he demanded.

  ‘Jerry!’ she screamed in surprise.

  ‘Do as I say,’ he shouted, moving the gun to point at Colbeck. ‘Stand where you are.’ He turned and punched Leeming. ‘Hurry up!’

  ‘Miss Adnam doesn’t wish to go with you,’ said Colbeck, calmly.

  ‘Of course she does!’

  ‘Why not ask her?’

  Oxley swung round to her. ‘What’s he talking about, Irene?’

  Irene shrank from him. ‘Stay away from me, Jerry.’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense. I’ve come to rescue you.’

  ‘I know what you did to that woman you strangled.’

  He gaped at her. ‘Why on earth bring that up now?’

  ‘Miss Adnam finally sees you in your true colours,’ said Colbeck. ‘I was able to tell her exactly what sort of a man you really were. Yes,’ he went on as realisation slowly showed in Oxley’s eyes, ‘my name is Robert Colbeck and I was a good friend of Helen Millington. You’ll be charged with her murder as well as with that of your other victims.’

  Oxley was bewildered. Expecting to rescue Irene from two New York policemen, he was instead confronted with the very man from whom he’d fled to America. It was only a momentary confusion but it was enough for Colbeck. Whipping out a truncheon from beneath his coat, he smashed it against the wrist holding the gun, forcing Oxley to drop it to the ground. Leeming tried to grab him with his free hand but Oxley reacted swiftly to push him hard against Colbeck. In the seconds that Colbeck was impeded, Oxley darted from the room and sped down the corridor towards the rear exit. As he came hurtling out into the street, he intended to race to the cab rank but the huge and intimidating figure of Captain Riley was blocking his way. Other uniformed policemen suddenly materialised out of nowhere.

  Dashing back into the courthouse, Oxley rushed up a flight of stairs with no idea where they might lead. Colbeck pounded after him, discarding his hat on the way. Oxley reached a landing and ran along it until he found a second set of stairs. Conscious that Colbeck was gaining on him, he turned to fight him off but it was a mistake. As Oxley raised his fists to beat him away, Colbeck dived for the man’s legs and brought him crashing to the floor. They grappled, rolled over and struggled hard to gain the advantage.

  Oxley had a power born of desperation, punching, kicking out and biting for all he was worth. He managed to clamber on top of Colbeck and got both hands to the inspector’s neck, applying pressure with his thumbs. Colbeck had a vision of Helen Millington in the same position, having the life choked out of her. Unlike her, however, he was no weak and defenceless young woman with wrists bound together by wire. He could fight back. Bucking and twisting madly, Colbeck put all his energy into a vicious right hook that caught Oxley on the ear and sent him sprawling sideways in a daze. Colbeck gave him no time to recover. Punching him relentlessly with both fists, he only stopped when Oxley was unconscious. As he panted away and felt blood trickle down his face, Colbeck looked at the man he’d been hunting for so long. Turning Oxley over, he pulled out the handcuffs attached to his belt and secured the prisoner’s wrists behind his back.

  It was all over. Helen Millington’s killer had finally been caught.

  Extradition procedures took less than a day to complete. Because Irene refused to stand beside Oxley in the courthouse, their cases had to be dealt with separately. Colbeck was very grateful for the help given by Captain Riley and his men. Having been drafted into the New York police for a morning, Leeming decided that he preferred life in plain clothes as a Scotland Yard detective. With their prisoners in handcuffs, they set sail for home on the Etna, another propeller-driven steamship. On their way, they promised to give Ireland a friendly wave on Matt Riley’s behalf. Though the return voyage took longer, it seemed to be quicker because their mission had been accomplished. They reached Liverpool in the pouring rain but nothing could dampen their spirits. On the train journey to London, the detectives travelled in separate compartments. Leeming looked after Irene Adnam while Colbeck stood guard over Jeremy Oxley. Their prisoners were duly delivered into police custody.

  ‘Congratulations!’ said Tallis, shaking their hands in turn. ‘This has been a signal triumph for all of us.’

  ‘I don’t remember that you came to New York with us, sir,’ said Leeming, annoyed that the superintendent was claiming some glory.

  ‘I was there in spirit, Sergeant. I also authorised the trip.’

  ‘It was the commissioner who did that.’

  ‘Why quibble over details?’ asked Colbeck, stamping out the row before it took flight. ‘The truth of it is that we all stand to gain from this escapade. First and foremost, two killers will now be condemned to death for their crimes and their victims have been avenged. Secondly, we’ve gained unanimous praise in the press.’ He smiled at Tallis. ‘I was pleased to see that your contribution was recognised, sir. You’ve earned their respect at last.’

  ‘I’m not so foolish as to think that,’ said Tallis, grimly. ‘They’ll praise me one day and stone me the next. However, that’s in the nature of journalism and I have to endure it with my usual stoicism.’ Sitting behind his desk, he eyed his cigar box as if about to attend a reunion with an old friend. He rubbed his hands together. ‘Now, then,’ he ordered, ‘sit down, the pair of you. I want to hear the full details.’

  As Leeming groaned inwardly, Colbeck came to his assistance.

  ‘There’s no need for the two of us to do that, Superintendent,’ said Colbeck. ‘I’m in possession of all the facts. Victor has been away from his wife and family for a long time. On grounds of compassion, I think he should be allowed to go home to them now.’

  Leeming rallied. ‘Thank you, Inspector.’

  ‘Well,’ said Tallis, grudgingly, ‘as you’re aware, I don’t normally yield to any compassionate appeals but this is a special case. You’ve done sterling work, Sergeant. Because of that, we need detain you no longer. You may depart.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Leeming, moving swiftly to the door before Tallis changed his mind. ‘Thank you very much.’

  After shooting Colbeck a look of gratitude, he went out of the room. Sitting do
wn, Colbeck composed his thoughts. There was much to tell but Tallis would only get an attenuated version of it. Like the sergeant, Colbeck was also anxious to get home as soon as he could.

  ‘This is truly splendid news,’ said Tallis, grandiloquently. ‘It wipes the slate clean of any mistakes we may have made during the investigation. I will have great pleasure in passing on the tidings to the Wolverhampton Borough Police and even greater pleasure in writing to the parents of Constable Peebles and to the young lady to whom he was betrothed.’

  ‘I hope it will bring them a measure of satisfaction, sir.’

  ‘With luck, it will take the edge off their sorrow.’

  ‘It may be too soon to do that,’ said Colbeck. ‘Bereavement must run its course. But at least they won’t be tormented by the thought that the constable’s killers escaped justice.’

  Tallis wriggled in his chair. ‘Tell me all, Inspector.’

  ‘Well, sir, it’s rather a long story …’

  It had been a good choice for a studio. Situated on the first floor at the rear of the house, it was a large room with a high ceiling. Madeleine set up her easel in a position where it caught the light pouring in through the two windows. Colbeck had singled the room out for her and – now that she’d actually tried to work in it – she saw that his judgement had been sound. There were immediate gains. She’d escaped the well-intentioned interference of her father and given him the freedom of their home during the day. Of much more satisfaction to her was the fact that she was in the house where Colbeck had been born and brought up. It was filled with mementos of him and with clear indications of his character. When Madeleine was working there alone, she somehow felt that he was beside her.

  Her latest painting featured a locomotive that her father had actually driven. It enabled her to get expert advice from him but it also left her open to bitter reproaches when he felt she’d got a detail wrong. Working from sketches she’d made, Madeleine was now at the stage where the final touches could be applied. She stood back to study the painting with a critical eye. When there was a tap on the door, she barely heard it. It needed a second, harder tap to claim her attention. Madeleine opened the door, expecting to see one of the servants there. Instead, it was Colbeck, beaming at her with arms widespread.

  ‘Do you remember me?’ he asked.

  ‘Robert!’ She almost swooned as she went into his embrace.

  ‘I called at your house but your father told me that you were here.’ He looked around with approval. ‘I told you this would make an excellent studio.’

  ‘Oh, forget about me,’ she said, pulling him into the room. ‘You’re safely back home in England, that’s all I care about.’

  He kissed her then stood back to gaze at her. ‘It’s a joy to see you again, Madeleine.’

  ‘You look different.’

  ‘I’m over two months older since we last met, that’s why.’

  ‘No, it’s something else,’ she said, scrutinising his face. ‘You were so serious and preoccupied before you left, but not anymore. It’s as if a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders.’

  ‘It’s more of a great cloud that’s finally floated away. It’s been hanging over me for far too long. In fact,’ he went on, ‘that’s what I want to tell you about, Madeleine. This case meant a lot to me.’

  She put a hand on his mouth. ‘Say no more, Robert.’

  ‘But you deserve an explanation.’

  ‘You’re home again – that’s the only explanation I need. You left me for a long, lonely time but the Robert Colbeck I love has come back at last. One look at you has swept away all my sadness.’

  ‘Don’t you want to hear what happened?’

  ‘Another time, perhaps,’ she said, nestling against him. ‘This is all I want at the moment.’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘I was beginning to think that you’d never come back.’

  ‘Of course I was coming back, Madeleine,’ he said. ‘I had to honour a promise I made to you.’

  ‘What sort of promise?’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t you remember?’

  ‘I’m too confused to remember anything just now.’

  ‘Dear me!’ he said, teasingly. ‘I disappear for a couple of months and you forget all about me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I thought about you every single day.’

  ‘Then you’ve probably already made the decision for me.’

  She was baffled. ‘What decision is that?’

  ‘The small matter of a date for our wedding,’ he said, kissing her again and lifting her up to twirl her in a circle. ‘You’re not leaving this house until it’s fixed. I want to hear those banns being published and those bells ringing out in celebration. I’ve waited far too long for you already.’ He pulled her close and rubbed his nose softly against hers. ‘When will you become my wife?’

  By Edward Marston

  THE RAILWAY DETECTIVE SERIES

  The Railway Detective

  The Excursion Train

  The Railway Viaduct

  The Iron Horse

  Murder on the Brighton Express

  The Silver Locomotive Mystery

  Railway to the Grave

  Blood on the Line

  THE CAPTAIN RAWSON SERIES

  Soldier of Fortune

  Drums of War

  Fire and Sword

  Under Siege

  THE RESTORATION SERIES

  The King’s Evil

  The Amorous Nightingale

  The Repentant Rake

  The Frost Fair

  The Parliament House

  The Painted Lady

  Copyright

  Allison & Busby Limited

  13 Charlotte Mews

  London W1T 4EJ

  www.allisonandbusby.com

  Copyright © 2011 by EDWARD MARSTON

  First published in Great Britain in 2011.

  This ebook edition first published in 2011.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978–0–7490–1050–8